She’d made it easy for us.
But matching virtual images to real people was still an enormous job with plenty of room for error.
We ran the 3D images through NamUs, the Doe Network, the SF missing-persons databases, and the FBI criminal database. Matches came up.
It was amazing, almost magical.
Claire got the first hit: Jane Doe EC 1 was Lina Rupert from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Cindy’s match was to Margaret Shubert from Toronto. The other four victims appeared to be missing persons from Chicago, New York, Omaha, and Tokyo.
We four shared the pictures in a Windows Cloud and chatted together in a dialogue box on the screen. Comparing notes took very little time. The victims were of all ages, the youngest only eighteen, the oldest forty- eight.
The victims weren’t criminals, and none of them was local.
Apart from their burial ground, what did these six women have in common? What had brought them together in a homemade boneyard in Pacific Heights?
Chapter 105
Yuki was sitting in the enormous chair in Brady’s hospital room. He had woken up for a moment, long enough to give her a lazy “Hiiii… Yu… ki.”
He told her he was enjoying the drugs and then fell asleep again.
The phone rang after that. It was a woman who said she was Jennifer Brady, Jackson’s wife.
“Who is this?” she’d asked.
Yuki considered telling the woman that she was a nurse but went with the truth.
“I’m Yuki Castellano. I’m with Jackson.”
“With him? What do you mean?”
“We’re significant lovers,” Yuki said.
The long silence was underscored by Brady’s loud breathing.
Yuki said, “He’s doing well, Jennifer. He’s sleeping, but he’s going to be okay. I’ll tell him that you called.”
Yuki dropped the receiver into the cradle, looked at it for a moment as if it were a porcupine. Then she upended it and turned off the ringer.
She said hello to the actual nurse who came in to attend to Brady, and then Yuki went back to her laptop and her Jane Doe EC 5, a young woman Yuki had identified as Hoshi Yamaguchi.
Yuki had already begun her research on Hoshi; she’d learned that she had been twenty years old when last seen. She had been going to school in Tokyo, was a student of history and fine art, and she disappeared while on vacation to the USA four years ago.
A family member had put up a website for Hoshi. There was a large portrait of Hoshi on the page. The next photo was of Hoshi ice-skating with her sister. The two were wearing leggings and matching blue puffy jackets, and they were holding hands.
Yuki could read some Japanese and was able to translate the caption under the photo.
Have you seen my sister?
Yuki opened a link and found messages from Hoshi’s friends listed in chronological order. The first notes were to Hoshi, asking her to write. Subsequent messages pleaded for anyone who had seen Hoshi to respond.
There was a link to the police reports and reward postings, and there was a section devoted to more pictures of Hoshi.
What had happened to this lovely young woman? Why had she been killed? And damn it, how had her head come to be buried in San Francisco?
Yuki was about to send a message to the girls when she noticed a link at the bottom of the photo section. It was marked, in Japanese, Last message from Hoshi.
Yuki clicked on the link and a video window opened on her computer. A young woman’s voice narrated in English as the camera panned Vallejo Street.
“Kendra, this is a very old street in San Francisco and this is the Ellsworth compound, one of the first houses built here,” the voice said. “Sometime you have to come from New York and see it because you would love it. This house survived the great fire of San Francisco and I’ve been told it holds many secrets.”
The picture jiggled, as if the camera was changing hands, and then the narrator came into focus; she was posing in front of a brick wall with a wrought-iron gate.
The speaker was Hoshi Yamaguchi, there was no doubt in Yuki’s mind.
Hoshi spoke to the camera using a playful entertainment-TV voice.
“The famous movie star Harry Chandler lived here for ten years and has been accused of murdering his wife. I’ve been told that he didn’t do it. And I believe it, because you know I love Mr. Chandler.”
The very cute Hoshi hugged herself and mugged for the camera. Then she said, “I’m going to take pictures of his house before I send this to you. Hold on, Kendra.”
Then Hoshi said, “Thank you,” and reached out and took back her camera. Whoever had been holding it ducked and put a hand up to block the picture. There was a break in the video. Apparently, the camera had been shut off.
Then the video continued with more of Hoshi’s narrative and pictures of the outside of the house as seen through the iron gate. Hoshi said, “Bye for now, Kendra. See you online.”
And the film was over.
Yuki hit the Replay button and watched the video once more, this time knowing that Hoshi had never seen her friend Kendra again, either online or in person. Yuki was pretty sure that Hoshi Yamaguchi had visited the Ellsworth compound on the last day of her life.
Chapter 106
Yuki posted the video of Hoshi Yamaguchi and I watched it run. There was the girl standing in front of the brick wall on Vallejo Street, a flash of a red tour bus at the curb.
One of the victims had been alive and present at the scene of the crime. As I watched the little homemade movie, my eyes teared up and my heart went giddyap.
Yeah. I was having some kind of heart attack, but it wasn’t fatal. I felt maybe, just maybe, this freaking case was going to break.
Graceland, I typed into the dialogue box. Neverland.
Yuki typed back, Wut do u mean?
I wrote, Did all the victims go on the historic-house tour?
Yuki replied, I’ll call the tour company now.
Claire wrote: Questions. If Hoshi was killed at the compound, were all of the women killed there? Where did the killings happen? Where are the bodies?
I watched the video again, this time pausing at the frames where Hoshi’s camera changed hands. There was a close-up of Hoshi’s neck and I saw that she was wearing a necklace with an amethyst pendant. The stone was set in a gold bezel. I wanted to yell, Rich! Look at this. I’ve seen this necklace. We have it in evidence. It was buried with one of the heads.
My partner wasn’t there.
I sent him an e-mail to keep him in the loop, then dropped an imaginary glass dome over my desk so no one in the squad room would interrupt me.
Shooting a video of Hoshi Yamaguchi didn’t make anyone a killer. Assuming that the victims had all been tourists, assuming they’d all been killed at the compound, Claire’s questions were good ones. Where had the
